


Devil take my soul

by Snowy_Rain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 100 Percent Self Indulgent, Bisexual Character, Comfort fic, F/M, Good Albus Dumbledore, I Write This For Myself, I'm aware that Tobias isn't a girl's name, Is this Isekai?? Is Tobias reincarnated?, Kind of Self Insert, Mental Health Issues, Misgendering, Self-Indulgent, Tom and Tobias (OC) become friends first aww, but fuck that lol, but not yet, do not copy to another site, gratuitous fluff, whatever, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain/pseuds/Snowy_Rain
Summary: Tobias Morgan is a wee first year when she first meets Tom Riddle, and it’s not a very memorable occasion.During fifth year, they somehow become friends. It’s a weird feeling.





	1. I dunno, I like this

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me being too love starved for my own good, that I’d go to these lengths to get it
> 
> So- looks like I’ve hit the deep end. This is what I spend time on when I’m tired of my life and my internet life. Please enjoy some peace and light reading during this experience

Throughout the entirety of her life, Tobias had known that something was wrong.

_ Terribly _ wrong.

It was like the feeling of a creeping thought, which warned of a forgotten memory - the alarm of having lost a precious belonging, the paranoia of falling down a cliff.

Tobias didn’t know what the problem was. There had never been anything to mind. Her father was a kind man, and her mother was a cheerful, fun-sort-of woman. Her childhood friends had been friendly to her, and she couldn’t say she had ever been bullied.

But.

But. But. _ But _ . It was always but. There just had been _ something _ , right out of her peripheral vision, hidden right beneath the skin of her daily life. She never knew what, but it didn’t stop her from _ suspecting _.

Sometimes, things happened that she knew would happen. Like stray thoughts, daydreams; you never know if it’s true, but you are never surprised when it happens. There would come to her _ premonitions _ \- as she liked to call them - but she would ignore. Not out of spite, nor out of fear. 

Out of _ apathy _.

She always knew within a pinpoint certainty when the moments of _ strange _ occurred. There was no exception to this, despite the other irregularities. The sense of wrongness always accompanied.

And after years, and a very enjoyable birthday celebration for her mother, the professor sitting in their living room says it’s freaking _ magic _.

“You are a witch, dear Tobias,” the gentleman coos, as if he wasn’t casually insulting her. He sees her expression, and is quick to placate, “Ah, I apologize. I keep forgetting. My dear, _ witch _ is a term for a female magic-user. For the boys, we use _ wizard _. I was sent by the school to introduce you to our world.”

“And...” Tobias drifts off. “So? Is there anything else? The letter said there was a school, and all sorts of things to buy?”

“Oh, yes, quite. See, for the wizard-folk in Britain and neighboring countries, Hogwarts sends each magical child a letter - the year they turn eleven, either on their birthday or before the school year starts. I trust you saw the owl? They are a prevalent way to deliver post.”

“Err, yeah.”

“Was there anything you wanted to ask?”

Tobias can’t think of anything besides how _ helpless _ she’s feeling right now. “Is there a beginner’s guide or something like that, at least? I’m... I’m really interested, and excited and all sorts of things, really - but I’d really like to get a feel of it, you know? Sir?”

Her father snickers lightly beside her, and she scowls at him.

“It’s a boarding school, isn’t it?” her mother inquires. Tobias nods along. 

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan,” the professor reaffirms. “Shall we talk arrangements? I do think young Tobias is in need of a distraction.”

“Of course,” she agrees, all too friendly. Turning to her, “Toby? Want to have a walk outside, sweetheart? We’ll be talking with Professor Dumbledore here.”

She shrugs. “Sure.”

Tobias likes walks. And she doesn’t want to stay around anyway.

_ Magic _.

_ Woah _.

Well, that explained a _ great _ many things.

Tobias had _ known _ . She had known there was _ something _ just underneath!

All her life, despairing the monotony of a regular life, she had known that rising above average was too grueling of a task. She had a way with the pen, sure, but that would not amount to anything in the sea of talents. What could she do, write children’s stories?

But now, a whole new path was available. The strange occurrences, the weird things that keep happening around her - they make _ sense _, and moreover there are people who are the same!

_ Ah _. That makes her a bit disappointed. Extraordinary in a life of ordinary, but ordinary in a world of extraordinary? That sounds even worse!

What would she do now? Could she, maybe, use her gift in a way that was only unique to her?

That calmed her down. True, there might be many witches, but everyone was different. Surely there would be an opportunity to rise above, in this school?

Shimmying, she sits on the porch for some minutes, then heads back inside.

~(e.e)~

Diagon Alley is _ beautiful _.

It’s all golden bricks and bright magic and pretty sunshine, and if that isn’t something out of a fairy tale, Tobias doesn’t know what is.

There are people in purple dresses, walking around complaining about cauldron charms or such, or about some people in the government, and Tobias is beside herself in her elation.

“Our first stop is Gringotts,” says Dumbledore. There lies a small smile under his long beard. “We need to convert your currency. Do you know the exchange rate for wizarding money and pounds?”

“Um,” replies Tobias, and with not much else, because what does she know yet anyway? “No. I’m still new, professor.”

He lets out a good-natured chuckle. She feels better about her ignorance afterwards. “Let’s see — Wizarding currency works in a different way than muggles’. For the coins with the lowest value, we call them Knuts which are bronze, and the smallest. For 29 Knuts, you’d have one Sickle. A Sickle is silver, and a bit bigger. Then for 17 Sickles, you get a Galleon. Mind you, Galleons are rather precious - golden and the biggest of the bunch - and are worth nearly five pounds each!”

“Woah,” Tobias blinks in astonishment, a bit intimidated. “That sounds - a bit much? I feel a bit nervous. Is our money enough?”

“Not to worry, Tobias. If your budget is limited, Hogwarts has a fund set aside for students. The main objective right now, is to reach the bank.”

Tobias nods, “Yes, sir.”

The towering building is soon visible to their eyes, even through the trickling crowd. It’s tall and white, like a beacon among the golden brown of Diagon. It’s beautiful, Tobias realizes it’s marble only after they’re near enough.

The gates open without a creak. A sign nearby on the wall attracts her attention.

_ ‘Enter stranger, but take heed-‘ _

“Tobias? Oh, I see you spotted the plaque. Does it interest you?”

“Yeah - what’s it for?” She reads it through, then understands, “Someone _ stole _ from here? It makes it sound like they _ died _.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirms, humming thoughtfully. Is that a tiny frown between his eyebrows? “That is most likely the case. In the old times, Gringotts had very strict policies regarding thieves. They still do, but not to that extent. I hope this little tidbit has taught you a lesson.”

“To never steal?”

“To never steal,” he repeats. He seems approving now. Maybe she unnerved him with her comment about death?

Well, she wouldn’t repeat that mistake again. She would have to curb that tendency of hers.

With a mild huff, she follows the man into the bank; glancing around curiously, she takes in the atmosphere of the new place. 

Gringotts, outside, was in pristine condition. Inside, it’s every bit of the home of glorious riches Tobias thought it was. There lingers the smell of metal, the hall is lit by chandeliers, high up in the ceiling, and there are booths that are inhabited by-

“Sir?” she whispers to him. “They aren’t _ human _, are they?”

“Observant, Miss Morgan - ah, I should get used to addressing you with your last name — Those are goblins. Very curt folk, they are. Possessive of money, and - _ this is between the two of us _\- rather greedy, I’d say. There isn’t much they wouldn’t do to gain more. However, should you receive their trust, I am absolutely sure they would treat you much better than the common wizard.

“There we go,” he adds as they reach a booth. It’s different from the ones nearby, where some wizards in flowing black robes converse with the creature. This one has a goblin in blue uniform. “Greetings, we would like to convert money.”

The goblin merely sneers, and outstretches his hand as if saying, _ ‘Well? Give it here!’ _

Dumbledore faces her and Tobias takes out the paper money stack out of her bag, handing it over. The goblin appraises it for one second, then two, then opens a drawer and puts it inside. With one close and opening, he then takes out a pile of coins, letting it fall out of his arms.

“You can find a sack by the counter,” he musters out, as if the sentence itself pains him to offer. “If you miss a coin, it will not be refunded afterwards.”

“We understand,” Dumbledore says. Tobias helps him gather every piece. Meanwhile, the goblin looks over some papers.

Soon enough, it’s done and they leave.

“Was it informative?” Dumbledore asks her. “I hope that was a useful experience for you.”

“It was - thank you, professor.”

“Don’t even mention it. Now, shall we go get your wand? It’s always the highlight of the trip, I hear. Or perhaps you would like the bookshop?”

Tobias thinks hard, but decides ultimately that a wand sounds more exciting than a book, if that’s possible. She tells so.

The professor laughs heartily at her thoughts, and accompanies with, “Books are not always the best, are they? I suppose the allure of a wand is bigger than a love of books. Very well. To the Ollivander’s we go!”

The shop for wands is much smaller than the bank - _ as expected. _ The display windows show a few polished sticks of wood, looking rather decorated. Advertising at its finest, Tobias remarks inwardly, approving of their silver sheen.

The door opens with a tinkling bell, then appears a young man from a backroom.

“Mister Dumbledore!” he exclaims in joy. He moves to shake his hand, Dumbledore reciprocates without complaint. “Glad to see you again. Here guiding another first-year?”

“Yes, naturally,” he answers him. “Meet young Tobias Morgan, Garrick. She says she’s interested in wands more than books,” he says with a wink in her direction. Tobias huffs, embarrassed.

Garrick’s one eyebrow rises, “Wands, you say? I can’t blame you, Miss Morgan. Tell me, are you a Muggleborn?”

“That means a magic-user born to two muggles,” Dumbledore explains her. “And yes, she is.”

“How fascinating, how fascinating. Come then, let’s get on with the business.”

~(OvO)~

She notices Mister Ollivander - _ she’s guessing is his name _ \- hums a song while he works. Tobias isn’t sure it’s working, _ per se, _ but it does look like he’s busy with something. He comes back with a measuring tape, and measures the oddest places. She stands as still as she can, afraid she’d ruin the thing the man’s doing

“Oh, _ don’t _ be so rigid, Miss Morgan,” he mentions. “I assure you, I dealt with my fair share of hellions. You may relax.”

After that, it gets better. She starts to breathe slowly, and Mister Ollivander goes back to the drawers to scour.

He comes back again, this time wit a box with him.

“Care for a swish?” he offers as he pulls out a wand. It’s long, bendy and completely black. “Unicorn hair, ebony. Very flexible.”

“Um, sure.” The moment it touches her hand, however, the wand lurches back to Ollivander’s hands.

“Ah, I see. Worry not! We have a wide range of products here. Now-“

They go through some selections, some really odd, when Ollivander emerges with a cry of victory.

“I am certain this is the one,” he gushes as he brings it out. His eyes sparkle with enjoyment. “Phoenix feather, larch wood. Moderately swishy.”

Tobias takes the wand with her lips pressed together, half-waiting for the wand the explode. When it doesn’t, she glances again, but it stays tame in her hands.

“Strange,” Ollivander mumbles, struck staring at the wand. “A bit _ worrying _. This is the wand, no question about that - but where is the response?”

“May I take a look?” Dumbledore pipes up behind them. He takes the wand in his hands, examining from afar. Rubbing his beard, “Thank you, Garrick. This will do. Rest assured, I’ll check this matter after the trip.” He then smiles genially, “How many galleons?”

\\(UwU)/

“Sir,” she starts after they leave the shop, hesitant. “What was that?”

“Ah, I suppose honesty is in order. Very well: Miss Morgan, do you know of the term, _Skeptic’s__ Syndrome? _”

“I - can’t say I heard it before?”

He sighs, rather like a forlorn old man. “You wouldn’t. I shall give you a brief rundown. Skeptic’s Syndrome, in short, is a malfunction of the mind which results in irregularities of magic.

“This condition works with the person’s emotions and state of their self-confidence. For instance, if you had a broom, but believed it was impossible to fly on it, it would not take flight. Hence the name, _Skeptic’s_.”

“But-“ Tobias feels faint. _ That means- _ “Does that mean I’m _ worse _ at magic?”

“Oh, not at all! _ Listen _ to me.” the professor crouches by her, stopping their walk. He gazes deep into her eyes, as if he can see the insecurity of her soul. “Tobias, I will not lie to you. This ailment, most likely, will persist for your whole life. Be that as it may, it is not a _ cripple _ either - you are a talented young witch, capable of everything your peers can do. The only thing is whether you _ believe _ in yourself or not.”

“But I _ do _ ,” Tobias rejects fervently. “I _ do _ believe myself! I kept doing this stuff all my childhood! How could I be _skeptical__? _”

Dumbledore narrows his eyes in contemplation. Could this have stumped him? “_ Perhaps _ ,” he throws back at last. “You spent so much time thinking your power is an ordinary part of your life, that you can not imagine something _ more _ out of it.”

At Tobias’ blinking eyes, he chuckled. “Was I wrong?”

“I... _ No _ . I don’t know, I don’t think so. It’s kind of true - but maybe it’s also... that I’ve always felt _ something _ holding me back.”

“Indeed? Let’s talk more about this later. For now, we have a shopping to do.”


	2. Putting my music while I’m watchin’ the boys...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias meets a weird boy with mood swings, named Tom Riddle. It looks as though he’s not good friend material, so she doesn’t try hard to hang out with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s nice.

King’s Cross is as breathtaking as Diagon Alley. Well, almost. Considering Tobias had never before seen a train, it would be prudent to say this is a unique experience.

Professor Dumbledore had accompanied her to the actual station - which, in fact, had been concealed behind a wall - and left her with the basic instructions, urging her to get on board soon. Tobias vibrated with excitement and nerves, thoughts running one mile a minute.

There were so many things to see, so many smells, and so many sounds that she could not decide what to focus on first. On one hand was the brilliant red train and her future classmates, on the other was the mesmerizing feats of everyday magic. 

“Oh, Algie,” a woman nearby moans ruefully. “You lost your toad again?”

“I’m sorry, Mom; Trevor’s just jumpy!”

She clicks her tongue. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find him on the train. Hurry up now! It’s about time!”

Tobias, taking the reminder as a personal advice, boards the train with the boy, trailing after him without anything better to do.

“Do you want help with the luggage?” another girl asks her. “I’m good at Featherlight Charms, and it’s legal to use magic on the station so...”

Tobias blinks rapidly, then smiles, “Really? That’d be nice, thank you.”

They get the things onto the train, and Tobias thanks the girl for her kindness.

“My name’s Fel,” the girl tells her. She looks somewhat distracted. “Fel Curtis. I’m a Half-Blood - Dad was the Muggle. You?”

“Tobias Morgan,” she replies. “I’m Muggleborn, I think. I don’t really know. It’s nice to meet you!”

“You too,” Fel says then looks at the corridor. “I think I have to go now. My sister’s waiting. See you.”

“You too.”

Tobias sets to finding a compartment when she comes across a curious little book on the floor. Taking it, she notes that it’s completely black and very-well kept. She isn’t about to go snooping inside, obviously, but checks the first page to see if there is a name.

While examining, she spots what she was looking for, printed on the back cover in gold,  _ ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle.’ _

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” she reads aloud. “I wonder who it is.”

Well, she has nothing to do, and Scotland is a bit far, isn’t it? Maybe she could find the owner of the book.

She traces the steps back, trying to guess if the boy - she assumes; Tom isn’t a name used for girls at all, is it? - had lost the thing while getting on board or while crossing the corridor.

Luckily, she does not have to work too long, and a boy, eyebrows knit together and movements jerky, finds her.

“Are you Tom Riddle?” she calls. He turns to her. Showing the book, “I found this on the floor. Were you looking for it?”

“Yes,” he confirms, slow and tranquil - wasn’t he looking so furious just now? “Thank you.”

He moves to grab it from her hands and Tobias lets him without any qualms. When he leaves, she lets herself ruminate on the encounter.

He was an odd kid, Tom Riddle. A bit weird. Tobias shrugs to herself and decides she needs to find somewhere to sit now, and the memory of the boy flees her mind.

<{ÙvÚ}> Ηυg Με ι αΜ α ζιηεβΓεΑκ

Fel, the girl from the train, goes to Hufflepuff. Tobias claps for her politely.

The Sorting had been unexpected, yet not unwelcome. To see that for something so daunting, she would merely need to place the hat on her head? A god-send, it is.

“Morgan, Tobias.”

She walks to the stool buzzing with the anticipation, and lets the hat’s brim cover her eyes from the onlookers.

“ _ My _ , a pleasure to meet you, Miss Morgan,” a voice echoes in her head. It’s fascinating - is the hat inside her  _ mind? “ _ A sharp mind too. Not bad. You are quite a set of contradictions, aren’t you? Ravenclaw seems suitable.  _ Hm _ \- but what is this? Oh,  _ yes _ ; you have realized long ago that knowledge you can’t use, is a waste of brain space.”

_ ‘Yeah _ ,’ she thinks, biting her lip.  _ ‘So what’s the verdict?’ _

“The verdict? I wouldn’t say that. A  _ House _ , Miss Morgan, needs to be somewhere the student will flourish and bloom into their talents. If I put someone with cunning into Hufflepuff, for example, Hufflepuff would lose its values and the student would feel alone - as someone who does not share the rest of the House’s traits. But it is not  _ permanent _ . Life  _ does _ continue beyond Hogwarts. A House is merely a starting point to the children who need guidance. Do you see my point?”

_ ‘I do.’ _

“You  _ do _ , of course. Rather empathetic. Ah... How  _ interesting _ . Tell me - do you mind being alone?”

Tobias frowns.  _ ‘Alone...?’ _

She doesn't mind, to be frank. She spends most of the time home being by herself, savoring solitude and writing stories.

_ ‘I wouldn’t say so.’ _

“I see. Very well. It seems the best place to help you become the great person you want to be, would be...”

“SLYTHERIN!!!”

Professor Dumbledore takes the hat off her head, and she hops down to sit on the green table’s end.

She takes a seat, but is confused when she’s met with tight gazes.

“You are a  _ Muggleborn _ , aren’t you?” someone sitting on her left says. “How did you end up in Slytherin?”

“I - don’t know?” Tobias answers, a bit offended. What’s with their attitude? “If you want to know, you would have to ask the hat.”

He sneers and turns away, watching the rest of the Sorting. The others leave her alone as well. So far, so good. What was it with them acting so snobbish?

“Riddle, Tom.”

Oh! It’s Tom. Tobias pays a bit more attention to the happenings.

He walks calmer than she had. His arms don’t swing by his sides aimlessly, nor does he shy away from everyone’s gazes. She admires his resilience with an appreciation she doesn’t often feel.

When the hat is put on his head, she can still see below two-thirds of his face. His lips twist in disgust for all of one second - then the hat yells out, “SLYTHERIN!!!”

She claps for him too. Tobias can’t help but think Slytherin would suit Tom well, regardless of whether he’ll be well-received within the House or not. He seems like the kind to enjoy the atmosphere of opposition.

Because of the lack of any other seats, he sits by her. He does not offer an introduction but does not start a conversation either, so Tobias doesn’t bother him. She’s content just daydreaming for the rest of the evening.

“You are a Muggleborn  _ too _ , aren’t you, Riddle?” another student accuses and Tobias rises back up from the fog of her thoughts.

“Like I thought - Slytherin is becoming filthier and filthier each year.”

“ _ As _ I thought,” Tobias corrects reflexively, grimacing at her faux pas. God, where was her filter when she needed it?

The haughty boy stares at her, completely flummoxed. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, grammar. Pretend I’m not here.”

“ _ Oh- _ “ Oh hell. Had she unknowingly provoked him? “- I  _ will _ . You see, Mudbloods like  _ you _ shouldn’t even be worth a tiny bit of my attention - so carry on doing whatever you Muggles do. You’re  _ going _ to regret this.”

A few months of hiding in the dormitories would be necessary then. She wishes she had never opened that stupid mouth of hers.

Soon after, the Headmaster gives a speech and dinner starts. Tobias nearly drools just looking at the dishes, and gets a bit of everything.

“Pass me the potatoes,” Tom demands quietly, obviously taking care not to include anyone else in the talk. 

Tobias raises an eyebrow, a bit incredulously but amused, and complies.

“Here you go,” she says, unable to stop herself from smiling just the slightest bit. He narrows his eyes at her, but doesn’t do anything else. 

For an eleven-year-old, Tobias muses, he’s awfully inconsiderate. True, Tobias herself isn’t much better, but she at least tries.

They go the dormitories after the feast, led by a Prefect of their House.

Once in front of the entrance, she stops and the group stops with her.

“I’m Prefect Helen Ruthwald,” she introduces. “This is the Slytherin entrance. The password changes every week, so be careful and take a look at the notice board every Monday morning. If you get stuck out and there’s no one else, a Prefect will help you in just before curfew. Am I understood?”

They all nod. Ruthwald leans into the portrait and mutters, “Draught of the Living Dead.”

The portrait slides to the side, and they flood in.

Tobias takes a sudden breath in at the gorgeous view - soft, emerald green lighting, velvet cushions and a glass window, seemingly showing the underwater sights. A fireplace crackles at the west side, the fire setting a cozy glow to the room.

“Welcome to Slytherin,” Ruthwald begins. “This is the House of the cunning, the ambitious and the cautious. We are one of the most prestigious Houses to exist - you will see that the most influential people in the Wizarding World are the ones who have been sorted here. 

“ _ This _ , however, does  _ not _ mean there is not a price. Slytherin, as it is, is seen as a House for people who are not to be trusted. This makes the majority of Hogwarts our  _ enemies _ . Ravenclaws sometimes take a liking to a few of our members, but you will see those are the exceptions to the rule. From now on, the only ones you can depend on are your fellow Slytherins. You must be vicious in your defense of yourself, or you will be taken advantage of. For  _ this _ reason,” Ruthwald emphasizes. “ _ We _ , as the  _ Slytherins _ , must showcase a united front against the other Houses. No matter your grudges, you will all be on amicable terms outside of the Common Room.”

The boy from the feast who had been rude to Tom and her raises a hand.

“ _ No _ , Malfoy. Your classmates’ blood purity does  _ not _ matter in this instance. You will show them the respect a Slytherin deserves outside of this room. Lower your hand.”

The boy -  _ Malfoy _ \- pouts and does as he’s told. Tobias would have found it cute had he not been a total jerk.

“Your luggage is in your dorm rooms. Girls’ dormitories are on the left, boys’ are on the right. Boys are  _ not _ allowed in the girls’ part and vice versa. If you  _ do _ attempt to sneak in, bad things will happen. Your timetables will be distributed tomorrow morning after breakfast. Breakfast is at eight, lasting until nine. To see the time, you can cast a spell:  _ Tempus _ . Has everyone heard the incantation? Good. Off to bed, all of you.”

With that, the group dissolved and everyone goes to climb the stairs.

“Morgan,” Ruthwald snaps. “ _ Where _ do you think you are going? That’s girls’ dormitories.”

Cheeks flushing in humiliation, Tobias tries to ignore the laughter of other children. “I’m a girl.”

“But your name and...  _ Oh _ .” Ruthwald cringes. “My bad. You can proceed. Must have been the short hair...”

The rest of the night goes swimmingly, besides that incident downstairs. Tobias loves the soft mattress and the warm blanket, a contrast to the cool air of the Slytherin dungeons.

There are three other girls with her in the room. One is Walburga Black, who seems as strict as a teacher even though she’s so pretty. The other two are her sisters, Dulcinea Black and Medea Black. They are chipper than Walburga, but seem a bit more willing to become bullies, should it come to that. Tobias decides to leave them alone as much as she can.

The first night is peaceful. The air is silent and the coldness seeps below the heavy blanket, but Tobias is so, _so_ _content_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Malfoy, you can’t be a bigot in front of the whole Hogwarts, what would your parents say?
> 
> (Tobias is bisexual and I’m projecting a lot can’t you tell)


	3. Sayo-nara, doki doki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tobias gets bigger, and nothing of much note happens except for some weird magic shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song title is the chapter title lmao, if you listen to it (don't be deceived, doki doki in this instance isn't a cute thing) beware that the game is not suitable for those who are privy to the human ailment of "fear of jumpscares and plot twists"
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=al1BNB8bKaE
> 
> don't tell me I didn't warn you. (Lmao why don't you watch someone's playthrough first? It's worth it I promise)

Life at Hogwarts settles into a calm blanket of routine.

Tobias had had some problems with her wand at first, but seeing the spells demonstrated helped a lot in the long run. There had also been a slight complication regarding incantations - in which she discovered she could not, under any circumstances, use verbal incantations to cast spells - but that had been resolved a few days after Tobias' yet another "ingenious" idea, when she found out she could cast non-verbal spells with more ease. It had been practically a gift, to be honest, considering she always felt so silly when she used the wand movements and the mish-mash of weird words - which she did not even know the meanings of.

Yet, somehow, Charms of all things had ended up as her favorite subject. She still questioned at times how that came to be, but could not find an answer. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the fluttering feelings charmworks incited in her as much as she could.

Potions was a complex subject - too many variables came into play on the field - or rather, cauldron - and it required her to keep her attention focused in a flitting way, jumping from instructions to reading ahead to short-term memorization and preparing the ingredients just right. She had to admit the preparation part took far longer than she liked, and left that job to her partner for the lesson. Considering first-year Slytherins had Potions with Gryffindors, however, one could imagine the trouble she was having.

Transfiguration though - absolutely, ridiculously awful, like you wouldn't imagine. Professor Dumbledore took mercy on her, a rarity among Slytherin-folk she heard, but it did not yield much results. He had taken her aside after class, inquiring of her academic experiences.

"I'm dreadful, sir, you must have noticed," she bemoaned her lack of talent in transfiguration. "Do you think it has something to do with my syndrome thing?"

"It would appear so," Dumbledore said, tentative. Mixing the sugar into the tea with a thoughtful look in his eyes, he asked her, "Have you done your introspection on the matter, Miss Morgan?"

"I have, but it's not leading up to anything. Can we work it out together? If it's not too much trouble for you, Sir."

"I don't see why not. Tell me, what do you do when you start a casting?"

"In other subjects or Transfiguration?"

"Transfiguration, if you would. It will suffice for now."

Tobias thought of the feeling of squeezing a lemon through her chest, and directing it into the wand until something sparked. She tried to describe the sensation as clearly as possible, even though it must have been mind-boggling to an adult's mind. How could emanating magic have the taste of salt anyway?

"I see," Dumbledore told her, his hand idly playing with his own wand - it's something light and smooth, polished and taken care of. Tobias approved of his diligence. "Perhaps, you are trying too hard to force it out. Transfiguration, contrary to youngsters' beliefs, does not come from an outside source, but from the spell's object's own inner system. Think: Would it be easier to change something with your bare hands, or to convince it to change itself? What you are attempting is forcing external stimulus into the object, which would achieve its purpose had the spell been Conjuration. However, Transfiguration works in different ways. To make an object change shape and texture to your desires, you must - let's say, nudge it first. Like a gentle reminder to get moving and start becoming something else."

"That's - That's fascinating," Tobias remarked. She wasn't lying; Dumbledore's words had been truly awe-inspiring for her, just what she needed. She wistfully wished herself an analyzing skill on par with the wise man sitting before her.

The professor chuckled, bringing the tea to his lips for a sip. "Indeed? Your compliments are much appreciated, Miss Morgan. Now, do you have an idea that might work?" Seeing her enthusiastic nod, "Then might I suggest running along to lunch? I would hate to see a student of mine starve."

Tobias had gone to the Great Hall, eating mashed potatoes and experimenting with spells at the same time. When it worked -miraculously- she nearly jumped up and down in joy at her achievement. Granted, Tom was probably side-eying her in distaste from where he sat - if he even looked. Tobias had kind of accepted that they were just acquaintances now. Even so, Tom was probably one of the most clever, most talented people she had ever seen, and that was counting Muggles.

She savored the rest of the meal with her whole body sort of buzzing, sunshine lighting up every pore of her being. Malfoy, who had the displeasure of sitting next to her, commented she was being disgustingly "mudblood-y".

"I'll stop when you pick up a thesaurus," she retorted and laughed at his face twisting with horror.

They had come to a weird sort of non-hostile-rival-in-truce thing, which decreed they spend the moments they were together with at least mild friendliness. The strange thing was they hadn't even talked face-to-face about it - it had just appeared after some time of Slughorn partnering them up. Of course, Malfoy was far from nice in the safety of Slytherin Common Rooms, but who even cared? Tobias was under the radar of those willing to hurt her, and she was able to live without stifling herself. This was enough for her.

Well.

Nearly enough.

She was still nowhere near the top in regards to magical prowess!

***

Tom sometimes reminded her when breakfast ended. Or lunch. Or dinner. It was left to his fancy, different every day. Tobias didn't really know if he considered the two of them friends or not, but she didn't complain. Tom could be nice, if he cared enough to be. (There were times he seemed mean, but he wasn't mean to her so it was okay.)

That day they were supposed to take Flying lessons. The shudder Tobias felt was foreign - she told herself it was because she was excited, not because the idea of staying afloat metres into the air without any railing or such scared her.

Of course not.

"Morgan," Tom called. It was with the sort of exasperation her mother would use, to tone her orders just right. "Breakfast is over."

"Oh," she said, hurriedly picking up her junk and dumping them into her bag. When she stood up, Tom had already gone, so she ran to arrive on time.  
  
  
She managed it, thankfully. The flying instructor had just entered the field, levitating a band of broomsticks behind him.

  
“Flying is hardy business!” he hollered at them. “Nasty business! You all better be prepared!”

“I’m not,” Tobias mumbled sarcastically.

The professor distributed the brooms randomly and left them to work it out, napping under a tree while the first years struggled to understand the logistics of flying.

“I ought to report him,” Tobias told Malfoy, testing her grip on the wood. “Who lets first years have a go at flying brooms without supervision?”

“Oh, _ relax, _Morgan -- it’s not as dangerous as you think it is.”

_“Really,” _she repeats after him, disbelieving. “Okay, tell me this then: Imagine you have no idea how to ride a broom and this is your first time--”

Malfoy muttered something under his breath then, quiet and fast, and Tobias couldn’t catch it.

“What was that?”

“I said… um. Mind your business.”

“Okay?” She shook her head. “Anyway, imagine you have no clue what you’re doing. If you _ somehow _manage to float, chances are you’re gonna fall anyway. So this is ridiculous.”

Malfoy huffed. “Well, I guess for once I’ll have to agree with you.”

Tobias let him puzzle over the broom by himself, instead glancing to see how the others were doing. She was gratified to see that no one had figured out how to fly yet, unsure if her ego could have handled the competition.

Tom was at the corner, glaring at his broom as if he wanted to set it on fire. She wouldn’t be surprised. But to be fair, he was the only one _ thinking _ about flying instead of _ trying it. _

How did magicians fly? Why did the broom _ fly? _ Why couldn’t magicians fly by themselves? Why a _ broom? _Surely they had more comfortable alternatives?

It just seemed unnecessarily complicated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to fly on these thick sticks. How would she _ stay _on it? It felt as though the moment she levitated she would slip and crack her head on the ground.

“How do brooms fly?” Tobias asked Malfoy, watching as he hopped on his own flying stick.

“Um.” He turned to look at her, confused. “As far as I know, there are manufacturers who enchant the brooms, also spell-creators who invent new and better ways to charm them. I think they had some flying oil or such before the Statue of Secrecy, but now they are spelled to obey the wizard’s will.”

“Will,” she echoed, pondering on the word. “What will?”

“How should I know? Do I look like a _ broom manufacturer?” _

“No. You look like Abraxas Malfoy, which is why I’m asking. Aren’t you a Pureblood? Aren’t you supposed to know these things?”

He was silent for a minute then, shuffling with his broom between his legs. “I actually never liked flying.”

Tobias blinked. “Really? Why not?”

Malfoy was snapped out of his melancholy mood then, narrowing his eyes at her. “I’m not about to blab to a _ Mudblood.” _

“Ah. Of course. Carry on, then.”

Onto brooms and will. She had just seen a Slytherin try to _ command _ the broom, as if it was an animal. And instead of obeying, the broom had smacked the boy’s face with its brush. Did it have anything to do with having _ control? _

“Up,” she heard Tom say at that exact moment, the broom snapping into his palm with a firm, fleshy sound. She turned around just in time to see the smug expression spread on his face.

“That _ prick,” _ Malfoy snarled by her side. So he _ too _was watching the boy. “I’ll show him what it means to upstage me!”

“He was just trying to figure out how to--”

“Hey! Riddle!”

_ He knows his name, _was Tobias’ only surprised thought as Malfoy strode up to Tom.

“Yes?” 

“You don’t belong here.”

_ Oh, _ Tobias’ eyes went wide, suddenly wary. _ So this is trash-talking. I’ve always wanted to see one. _

“Oh?” Tom intoned, still and indifferent. “And what makes you think _ you _ do? Pure of blood yet unable to surpass _ mud?” _

The Ravenclaws around them _ ooh _ ed and _ ahh _ed, Malfoy’s face turning red.

“Well,” he spoke then. “At least I’m not penniless and unwanted.”

He was trying to hit it where it usually hurt -- the _ feelings. _But he was forgetting that Tom rarely emoted, and that he had probably already seen insults worse than Malfoy’s.

“I have yet to hear a comeback,” Tom said, making the others titter as Malfoy grew even more angry. 

Tobias was suddenly _ inexplicably _sure that something bad was unfurling.

“How about this then,” Malfoy growled, “you, me. Midnight, near the Black Lake. I challenge you to a _ wizard’s duel.” _

This _ idiot. _Tobias wanted to get between them and slap Malfoy silly.

Tom wasn’t going to _ accept, _was he?

His eyes narrowed, slits like needles, and he drawled, “What makes you think you are capable of _ dueling _ me, Malfoy? Everyone here has seen how incompetent you are. _ What _makes you think you can challenge me and win?”

“Because you are below me! You are _ nothing!” _

“Malfoy,” Tobias called out then, against all her screaming instincts. “You’re making a fool of yourself. You can have your duel some other time.”

The boy turned around and sneered, spitting at the ground before her feet. Tobias was taken aback for a mere moment before she remembered that Malfoy hated the very sight of her.

“Keep you filth to yourselves, Mudbloods! You don’t deserve to even say my name!”

With that last exclamation, he stormed away without a thought to the lesson time.

“Jesus,” Tobias snorted. “Something got his knickers in a twist. Wonder what?”

“Are you alright, Morgan?” a Ravenclaw girl asked her. She was pretty -- with flowing black hair and dark eyes.

Blushing, Tobias said, “I’m okay. No worries.”

“Everyone!” The Professor had woken up, stretching his sore joints away. “Class is finished! Scatter!”

The man made them collect the brooms and put them in the broom shed, each student carrying their own. Tobias, for the sake of order, was also carrying Malfoy’s.

“He despises you,” Tom said, syncing his paces with hers. Tobias blinked with bemusement.

“Yeah?” she told him. “I know?”

“Why do you tolerate him?”

“I don’t know,” she responded. “I don’t mind it when he lashes out. At least, not when it’s just insults.”

“Why?”

“Because…” She shrugged. “The word _ Mudblood _means practically nothing? I have no idea why it’s supposed to be a derogatory term.”

Tom sneered, face strangely reminiscent of Malfoy’s look of disdain. “It mocks our origins. It says that _ we don’t belong. _It sets us separate from the magicals.”

“No it doesn’t,” Tobias said. “May I use your own argument? You told Malfoy that even though he was a Pureblood, he wasn’t as talented as you. That should mean _ something. _Mudblood doesn’t mean anything.”

“I am the exception to the rule, apparently,” Tom spoke. “Muggleborns like you make them think we are underqualified.”

“Huh?”

“Your _ dreadful _spellwork,” Tom said, exasperated. “Your utter failure at Transfiguration. You are setting a bad example.”

“I’m doing everything I can,” she shot back, a bit insulted. “I have a condition.”

“... A _ condition.” _

Tom sounded as if he didn’t believe her.

“I do,” Tobias defended. “Ollivander said that I have Skeptic’s Syndrome or some such. Magic will never work as it should to me.”

“I have never heard of that before. Do you have a book?”

“I think the library had a copy--”

“Morgan,” the Ravenclaw from before said, likely having followed them. “After you’re done talking, could we talk too?”

“Oh.” Tobias could feel her cheeks flush, and looked back at Tom with flitting eyes. “Uh, well, I’ll give you the book later.”

“...Please do. Your _ condition _sounds intriguing.”

As Tom left, the girl approached her and they had a moment of awkwardness, silence thick between them.

“I should start,” she spoke shyly. “I’m Eliza Falword. I thought you looked interesting at the sorting, and then I checked the classes we would share and now seemed to be the best time to introduce myself--”

“Oh, okay,” Tobias stammered, smiling a bit shakily. “Was there something?”

“Yes.” Eliza cleared her throat. “Would you like to be friends? I know we aren’t in the same House, and you are a Slytherin, but you looked lonely at the table and I thought… Despite Malfoy hanging with you I would try my luck.”

“I -- Of course!” Tobias smiled widely, jubilant. This was… very embarrassing and nervous-break-down-inducing but she was happy. “I would love to be friends.”

“Okay.” Eliza nodded, head lowered and biting her lip. “I was really worried you would refuse. Right -- see you later!”

She ran away without running, walking quickly toward the castle’s entrance. Tobias just stood in front of the broom shed with hot cheeks and a nervous scream bubbling in her throat.

Finally over the incident, she breathed out the excess of emotions and went back inside, running to get to Charms.

\----

“So this is the book,” she said, plopping herself down onto the couch. Tom sat next to her, staring with dispassionate eyes as she ruffled through the pages and the bookmarks.

“Here.” The page had a brief synopsis of psychological diseases that had magical effects, going into details about her syndrome in particular. “This is all I know. I was going to see if the library had more information, but it looks like I’ll be busy with homework for a while.”

Tom hummed in consideration, taking the book from her hands and laying it on his lap. “That was all. You can go upstairs now.”

Tobias blinked. Was he _ dismissing _her? “Well…” She raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Good night.”

“You as well.”

Tom was a weird boy.

\-------

For the rest of the year, Tobias juggled Eliza, Malfoy’s moods, and the horrors of Transfiguration. She didn’t see Tom much afterwards, only exchanging greetings _ maybe _two times a week -- but it was alright, she supposed. They weren’t that close. Tom was interested in her disease, which probably meant he saw him more as a lab rat than a friend, or even an acquaintance. 

Malfoy gave her the stink eye for the rest of the year, staying as far from her as possible. She was sure that he insulted her to his Pureblood friends, but he never did it to her. They worked in Potions with mildly hostile, amicable conversations.

Eliza was a very sweet girl who had trouble socializing. Within the first week of their friendship, Tobias had learnt that she had been ostracised in her House, had had a _ crush _ on Tobias when she first saw her _ (“I thought you were a boy!”), _had learnt Tobias’ gender when she was checking the student records and had a shameful revelation, yet had decided to become Tobias’ friend regardless.

“Aw,” Tobias had cooed as she hid under her pointed hat. “That’s adorable. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind?” Eliza had exclaimed. “But you’re a girl! And I’m a girl! That’s just… _ weird!” _

“Well, if there is _ magic _I think anything is possible.”

“Oh… Anyway! It doesn’t matter, I’m still your friend, right?”

_ “Of course _you are.”

Tom was… Tom was just Tom. Like a ghost that you knew existed but didn’t think about too much. He was top of the class in every subject, and he was top of the class in the end-year exams. Tobias wished she could be more like him.

When the time came to pack up and prepare for their departure, she sighed and embraced Eliza as tight as she could. Though they had promised to owl each other, Tobias knew that it wouldn’t be the same.

“I’ll send you a birthday present,” she told her, watching Eliza brighten up. “Your birthday is in August, isn’t it?”

“August first,” Eliza corrected. “I’ll miss you so much! You are my only friend.”

“Yeah,” Tobias laughed as she hugged her one last time. “Maybe find one more. It’s good to have friends. As they say: The more, the merrier.”

And as she boarded the train home, all she could think about was _ how _much she would miss magic.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god my brother's watching Beyblade right near me and shuu and valt are being so GAY I can't even-
> 
> valt has dumb gay energy send help nnghhhh

**Author's Note:**

> I....  
(Sobs)  
_I accidentally pressed Spam for a comment from Emma_
> 
> KNOW THAT YOU WERE APPRECIATED ♡♡♡


End file.
